Blackout
by shoreside
Summary: Emily needs help.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own "Criminal Minds", its characters or anything related. If I did, I wouldn't be as poor as I am. This is my first Hotch/Prentiss pairing and any feedback would be much appreciated.

_Oh God, it hurts._

She didn't know what had jarred her awake but when she turned her head to look at the clock, the searing pain from the top of her head to the base of her skull made her whimper. She wasn't surprised; migraines had become her almost constant companions since her capture in the compound but the knowledge didn't make the pain any easier to bear. She lay as still as she could and tried to think. She had medication somewhere in her spacious apartment but she didn't know where – searching for it at the present time didn't seem like a wise idea.

_Phone someone. _

Her cell phone was God-knows-where but she had a landline beside her bed. Months ago she had programmed useful numbers into it just for times like this but she hadn't written down who was who. She had counted on her brain to remind her but the pain blocked out any messages said organ could be trying to send her.

_Not JJ. Not Reid. Not Morgan._ The former two had enough on their plates and the latter one would be loud. _Garcia._ Perfect. Now which number was she? Had she done alphabetical order according to last names? If so, Garcia would be number 1… she lifted the phone, punched one and when a voice said, "Hello", whispered,

"It's Emily. I need you to come over and find my pills. Please hurry. It hurts." She replaced the receiver, satisfied that Penelope would understand the message and come. She closed her eyes and waited.

Looking at the now silent phone, Hotch was startled. He couldn't remember Emily ever calling his cell before when it wasn't work-related and what did she mean by pills? She sounded as though he should already know what she was referring to and he didn't have a clue. He stared at his phone for a couple of seconds, debating whether or not to call for reinforcements and then the urgency in her voice hit him and he grabbed his coat.

The door to Emily's condo was locked. Hotch knew he should have expected that but had hoped otherwise. He looked around aimlessly for a few moments and when no idea jumped out at him, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a credit card. Hoping that there wasn't a noisy neighbor ogling him, he skillfully opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark. He had been inside Emily's condo only once before, to encourage her to return to the BAU but he didn't remember much beyond the front foyer. He switched on a light and saw the stairs. Half-way up, he could hear moaning so he took the remaining steps two at a time. He traced the sound to a room and gently eased the door opened.

It was dark and reflexively he groped for the light switch. During the brief few seconds between his eyes adjusting to the light and the scream, "Turn it off!" he spotted the figure of his agent curled up on the bed, facing away from him.

"Emily?" he whispered. The figure sat up.

"Hotch?" Emily couldn't stop her voice from shaking. What was her boss doing there? "Is something wrong? Do we have a case?" She couldn't believe that she had missed a page from the office.

"No, no," he soothed, coming towards her and perching on the bed. "You called me. You asked me to come over and find your pills."

Emily remembered pressing 1 on her phone. _Oh God, I programmed according to first names or work importance or something else. _"Hotch, I'm so sorry. I meant to call Garcia. She has a key and…" she stopped and even though the level of pain in her head was increasing exponentially as the situation got worse, she knew that Hotch most certainly did **not **have a key to her home.

"How did you get in?"

Hotch briefly considered lying and telling her that she had left the door unlocked. Deciding that might cause her to panic even more than she was already doing, he told the truth. "I'm an FBI agent. I have my ways."

Emily smiled a bit even though she knew he probably couldn't see her in the dark. "As long as you didn't kick down my door, I don't want to know."

"No, the door is still intact. I'm not Morgan," he joked. Then he got serious. "Emily, what's going on? Why are you in so much pain?"

_Oh no, truth time._ "Hotch?" she asked, trying not to whine like the five-year-old she was feeling like at that moment, "do you think you could go into my bathroom and find my pills? I'll tell you anything you want to know but I can't handle my head a minute longer."

Hotch obediently got up and headed for the bathroom off the bedroom. He compassionately closed the door before he switched on the light and opened the medicine cabinet. He was mildly distressed to find that it contained only vitamins and a bottle of Fiorinal.

"Emily, this is pretty strong stuff," he said once he had exited the bathroom and reclaimed his spot on the bed. He handed over the bottle. "How long have you been using this?"

Emily didn't answer right away. She held the bottle in her hand and miserably told him, "Hotch, I'm so sorry but I'm going to throw up." She put her other hand over her mouth.

Hotch knew immediately that action was needed. He had her up and half-carried her to the bathroom just in time. He discreetly left her alone while she retched and coughed and when he heard the toilet flush, he came in and silently wet a washcloth and gently wiped her mouth, face and neck. He became concerned when Emily scrunched herself into a ball and didn't move.


	2. Chapter 2

"Emily?" he got down beside her and tentatively placed his arm around her shoulders. To his dismay, he realized that she was crying. Thinking about the pain she must still be in, he got up and went back to her bed to fetch her pills. But when he offered them to her, she didn't stir.

"Emily, I'm going to get you a drink of water, ok? Please take a pill." He got the water the kitchen because he couldn't find a glass and when he returned, she meekly took the glass and the pill. But she couldn't stop crying.

"Hotch," she managed to get out between sobs. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to call you, I thought I was calling Garcia. And now I've been sick and you've been so wonderful…" she couldn't continue. Relieved that her tears were more about embarrassment than pain, he relaxed and once again sat beside her.

"Hey, I have a three-year-old, remember," he attempted to joke. "I know all about throwing up." Emily didn't stop crying, however. Not stopping to think about the appropriateness or not of a boss holding an employee, he didn't stop at just a one-armed hug – he picked her up and held her against his chest as she cried.

"Shhhh, shhhhh," he murmured. "It's going to be ok. I'm glad you called. I'd hate to think of you being hurt like this all alone. Now I'm going to carry you back to bed, ok? It may be painful but just for a second." When he had her back among soft blankets and pillows, he got up to go. To his surprise, Emily stretched out a hand and grabbed the end of his sweater.

"Don't go, please? I can't be alone right now." _Did I really say *can't*? That will go over big with your boss, Em. Don't you think you've given him enough evidence to consider you completely incompetent and pathetic? _

Hotch settled down beside her and hoping that he wasn't breaking any personal boundaries, reached out for Emily again. When she was back against his chest and her tears had stopped, he asked, "How long have you been having these headaches? And why didn't you say anything?"

Emily was quiet for a long time, wondering just what consequences her answers might have. She realized that she really had no choice but to reply and hoped beyond hope that she still had a job when their talk was through.

"They started after Reid and I were held at the compound," she began. "I went to the ER one night and got this prescription and I only take them at home, not when we're on a case or anything." Then, anticipating what he might ask next, she added, "They did the head CT and all the other tests you might want done after your head is used as a punching bag." She gave a small laugh but Hotch didn't fall for it. Giving in, she continued, "And I didn't say anything because frankly, Reid is carrying enough guilt around at the moment and I didn't want to add to it."

"You could've told me," he admonished, gently. "It didn't have to get back to Reid."

She summoned up her best Allison Janney voice. "There is no group of people this large in the world that can keep a secret. I find it comforting. It's how I know for sure the government isn't covering up aliens in New Mexico."

She could feel Hotch shaking with laughter and was satisfied. "What the hell was that?" he asked when he could finally speak.

"A quote," she answered, smirking. "C.J. Cregg, press secretary, telling Toby Ziegler, director of communication, that she can't find the leak. The West Wing. Don't you ever watch The West Wing?"

"I thought you hated politics."

"Only the real kind. The West Wing isn't politics. I mean, yes, of course it's politics because it takes place in the White House but it's so much more. I watch it to decompress."

"I watch Winnie-the-Pooh and Bob the Builder to decompress."

"That, sir, is because you have a three-year-old and you don't know any better. When my head stops pounding and I can stand to have the TV on, you're going to watch the pilot of The West Wing and see if you can tell me that it's not the most brilliant thing on DVD."

"It's a deal." They enjoyed a few minutes of comfortable silence. Emily couldn't believe that she was in the arms of someone she had had a crush on since she met him as a teenager. Hotch couldn't believe that he would enjoy holding someone so much after being so hurt by Haley. Then Emily noticed that it was too quiet.

"Oh oh." Her tone was ominous. Hotch looked down in alarm.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked with trepidation.

Emily winced. "No, but I think I'm about to impart some not-so-good news. The furnace has stopped."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews you've left in response to this little story. It's my first attempt at (believable) Hotch/Prentiss romance so hopefully I'll get better with practice. Anyhow, this is probably the fastest I've ever written and updated and it's thanks to all of you!

Hotch was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"There aren't any lights on so I didn't know right away but the furnace has stopped and there's no light coming from my alarm clock. I think the power's out." _I hope he doesn't think that I planned this in order to trap him here. As much as I would love that…Em, give your head a shake! Fiorinal makes you high. You're not thinking clearly._

Hotch gently detached himself and went to the window. "Yep, you're right," he said, getting back on the bed. "It looks city-wide." He debated internally holding her again, but she seemed better and he didn't want to take liberties.

"You're kidding." She got up and looked for herself. Hotch was pleased to see that her head seemed much better.

"One of those freak things, I guess," he commented. Emily couldn't tell from his tone if he was upset or not. She turned from the window and wanted to go back to the bed but her head was better, she was slightly buzzed from the Fiorinal and she didn't trust herself. Alone in a dark room, with someone she had fantasized about as an adolescent… it was a recipe for trouble. She hugged herself as a shiver went through her body – the warmth from Hotch's body was sorely missed. She methodically went to her closet, pulled out a sweater and put it on, unaware of Hotch's eyes on her. With her back to him she said, "I suppose it's too dangerous for you to leave with no traffic lights and all."

Hotch got up and stood behind her. "Do you want me to leave?" His voice sounded strained to Emily and she wanted to cry out, _no stay, please stay. I want you to stay forever._

"I want you to do what's safe," she answered, finally, voice flat and emotionless. She turned and looked up at him, hoping that her eyes wouldn't betray her thoughts. "You are welcome to stay. I have an extra room and it even has a bed." She laughed hollowly and moved around him, the closeness of him intoxicating. "I'm going to grab something from the fridge while it's still cold. Do you want anything?" She didn't wait for him to answer – she had to get out of the room while her head was still fairly clear.

When she emerged from the kitchen with a couple of glasses and some juice (wine wouldn't be a good combination with the drugs), Hotch had moved into the living room and opened the drapes.

"There's a bit of light from the moon," he said in answer to her questioning look. "Thanks for the drink" as he took the glass from her. She curled up in the easy chair, leaving the couch for him if he wanted it. Hotch settled easily on it and took a sip.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, kindly.

"Yes, thank you." Silence descended. Emily wondered if Hotch was feeling as uncomfortable as she was. She wracked her brain for topics of conversation but it seemed like every thought had been extinguished in her head. She blamed the drugs. Hotch, for his part, seemed content to drink apple juice and stare at her. At least it felt like he was staring at her. She couldn't be sure because she didn't dare look at him.

"Emily." She inwardly cringed at the kindness in his voice. "What is it? Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, of course not! It's just…" she tried to gather whatever courage she still possessed "I've wanted to get to know you better ever since you came to work for my mother. And now you're here but I don't want you to think that I got you here under false pretenses. I really did think I was calling Penelope…" her voice trailed off.

"I owe you an apology." Startled, Emily looked at Hotch despite herself. He was smiling slightly, an unusual expression for him. Emily wondered if it was a trick of the moonlight.

"You owe _me _an apology?" she repeated, incredulously. Her hand started twirling with her hair in a way that broadened Hotch's smile.

"Yes, and it's long overdue. I was unbearably rude to you the day you showed up in my office, having been assigned to the team. It was a difficult time for the team and for me personally but that's no excuse. I should have remembered what you were like as a young person and not suspected you of being involved in Strauss' games. Will you forgive me?"

Emily couldn't believe her ears. "Of course I forgive you but I didn't expect you to remember me, let alone my character. And based on my mother's position, why wouldn't you think that she had something to do with my being assigned to the BAU? Controlling people and situations fits exactly with _her _character." Her voice turned uncharacteristically bitter, which did not escape Hotch's notice.

"Still cynical about politics? The _real_ kind?"

It was the sympathetic note in his voice, she would decide later. That had to be the reason that she would throw caution to the wind, so to speak, and reveal her secret to her boss of all people. It certainly had nothing to do with a teenage crush or the darkened room that begged confidences to come forth.


	4. Chapter 4

_**I'm not happy with this at all, firstly because I vaguely remember reading a similar plot in another fandom and I don't want to copy and secondly because I can't make Emily talk the way I want her to. Still, it's the ending I envisioned and leaves it open for a sequel should my brain float that way. Thanks for all your support and comments.**_

"You know what I'd really like an apology for? From you? The way you treated me when I told you that I wanted to offer Carrie a home. Remember that girl who lost her entire family? You told me that you had to be sure that I was objective. Had I given you any reason up to that point to worry that I couldn't be objective?"

"No…" Hotch got no further because Emily cut him off. She was on a roll and didn't want to be interrupted.

"If I was the sort of person who couldn't be objective, I never would've gotten into the FBI. I certainly wouldn't have taken a job where I see the worst of what humanity can do to itself day, after day, after day. If I truly let myself feel the things that well up in me when I see pictures of murdered children or talk to a woman who has just been raped, I wouldn't be asking details like what the asshole said or did, I would be crying and screaming. I would flash back to middle school and being a white girl in a Middle Eastern country and walking past women every day with no rights, no voice and no self-respect whatsoever. When I was raped at the age of 13 by a bunch of boys who had been raised to feel superior and never have their actions questioned, especially not by a _girl_, I told my mother and wanted her to do something and she worried about her job and government relations. If I couldn't be objective I would think about that every day and want to go bomb a country and I wouldn't be here. God, you have the nerve to think that I'm not objective when Rossi obsesses over a 20 year-old double homicide and calls the victims' children every year…"

All of a sudden, Emily couldn't breathe. With all the thoughts and emotions swirling through her mind, she was back in Saudi Arabia, being pinned down by boys who were calling her vile names in Arabic and she couldn't breathe. There was someone on her chest, she was suffocating, maybe if she struggled hard enough she could break free…

"**EMILY!"** A very non-Arabic voice broke through and she was aware that hands were gripping her shoulders, not pinning her down but trying to get her attention. She focused on the face in front of her, Caucasian, eyes wide not in anger but in worry. She opened up her mouth to apologize, to tell him not to worry about her because she couldn't stand the thought of someone doubting her ability to care for herself but she couldn't catch her breath…

"Don't talk, just breathe," he said sharply, and, incase she had forgotten how, he demonstrated for her. She imitated him until her breathing slowed and her heart didn't feel like it was going to explode out of her chest any longer. Once she realized that Hotch was still touching her, she pulled away abruptly.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, pulling herself together and getting up. "I didn't mean to dump all that on you. The offer of the guest room still stands. I'm going to bed."

To her dismay, Hotch followed her into her room. "Emily, don't you think we should talk about this?"

_God, no. _

"I really don't see what that would accomplish," she responded, frostily. "I lost my temper, I'm sorry and my head hurts. You can't drive home in the middle of a power outage, you will never be as comfortable with me as you are with Rossi or Morgan when it comes to your team and I accept that. The guest room is down the hall."

Hotch stubbornly refused to leave. She got into bed, pulled the covers over as much of her as she could without suffocating herself and put her back to him. He sat down on the bed's edge.

"I'm going to be honest with you," he said, conversationally. Emily didn't move, hoping that her lack of response would discourage him. "You're right that I tend to trust males before females when it comes to my team. You're right that I was wrong to question your objectivity when you have never given me any indication that you couldn't be objective. You're also right that I spend too much time watching television geared towards toddlers. All of these things can be fixed. I like you, Emily Prentiss, and I'm deeply sorry that you had such a horrific thing happen to you. Someday I'll tell you my story and I'm not being flippant. But until then I want to be your friend. I'm glad that you called me tonight. I can give you a run for your money when it comes to compartmentalization – we'll be boss/agent during working hours and then I hope we can be friends afterwards. How does that sound to you?"

Emily turned over, eyes wide, not exactly sure she could believe her ears. Hotch waited and when it was clear that she wasn't going to speak, clarified, "I'm serious, Emily. Do you have a problem with anything I said?"

"Um, no," she stammered. Hotch smiled gently at her and Emily was sure that at that moment her head exploded.

"I'm going to walk," he decided, getting up. "My car will be safe here until tomorrow, right?"

"You're going to walk?" she repeated, stupidly to her own ears.

"Sure. It's a nice night. With the lights out, you can see the stars. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. Yeah. Sure." She started to get up to walk him to the door but he held up a hand to stop her.

"It's ok, I'll find my way out. It's been a pleasure, Emily. Do call again." And with that he left.

Emily gave her head a shake and settled back down under her comforter. _I think I have just been witness to a very scary alien abduction._ She reached for her phone, thinking she might call Garcia to share the burden of watching her boss transform before her very eyes but then changed her mind.

_She'll never believe me._


End file.
